


Farewell to Corellian Whiskey

by elizasky



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Breakup, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:44:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizasky/pseuds/elizasky
Summary: In a galaxy with so many beautiful beings, why fuck only humans?





	Farewell to Corellian Whiskey

Corellian whiskey had been a bad choice. Sentimental. As Lando Calrissian drained the last drops from his tin beaker, he resolved to switch to grog for the next round. Cheaper, that was for damn sure, and it would get him where he was going just as quickly.

“This seat taken?”

Lando looked over the rim of his empty cup to see who had spoken in a low, languid Basic with consonants so round and fluid they dissolved into their neighboring vowels. A tall Ithorian stood before his table, orbic eyes blinking from either side of an elongated, knobbly head. They wore a fawn-colored tunic under a flowing green mantle, crisscrossed by brass-tipped leather straps. Everything about the Ithorian was lengthened: swooping neck, sinewed arms, a spellbinding expanse of smooth skin uninterrupted bynose or chin.

 _Hammerhead_ , Lando thought, but didn’t say it, not wanting to cause offense.

“No,” he said as indifferently as possible. The seat beside him certainly wasn’t taken. That was why he was getting drunk, wasn’t it?

“You are new to Maz’s,” the Ithorian said, folding themself into the seat and resting impossibly long, slender fingers on the table.

They spoke with the mouth facing Lando; a courtesy, he supposed, though he was not well-versed in Ithorian customs. Nor Ithorians, for that matter. He had heard that they were generally a peaceable lot, gardening and living in harmony with nature and all that, though the being seated by his side had a rakish air that made Lando wonder what exactly they might be doing at Maz Kanata’s castle. It was a peaceful place, but not a lot of peaceful beings found their way there.

“How would you know?” Lando asked, an edge of challenge in his voice.

The Ithorian smiled, the mouth in their neck stretching open from one corner to the other as if it were being slit.

“You drink from a maiden’s cup,” they answered lazily.

“ _Maiden!?_ ” Lando spluttered.

The Ithorian chuckled, a deep, rolling sound that echoed intriguingly. “It’s only to help Maz keep an eye on unproven beings. Unaccompanied first-timers drink from those cheap, shiny beakers. A useful shorthand.”

“And old hands like you?”

Long fingers unfurled into the air, hailing a tray-carrying droid. “A round for me and my new friend,” the Ithorian said in tones so rich they must have come from both mouths at once. “We’re drinking . . .”

Two mahogany spheres blinked at Lando, inquiring after his pleasure.

“Grog,” Lando said with decision.

“Grog,” the Ithorian repeated, the word turned to liquid in their mouths.

When the drinks arrived, Lando saw the difference immediately. Instead of the bright, flimsy metal of his previous cup, this round was delivered in a pewter beaker, old and heavy and embellished with pebbled hammer marks that echoed the studded leather of the chairs in which they sat.

“To new friends,” the Ithorian said, raising their cup to Lando.

“How can I toast you when I don’t know your name?” Lando asked.

That rich chuckle again. “My name is Graas,” they said, the name lush and resonant in their mouths. “And you are Lando Calrissian.”

“How did you know that?”

“I asked.”

Lando felt his cheeks grow warm at the satisfaction on the wide-mouthed face. He took a deep pull of his grog to manufacture time for thinking. Plenty of beings might be looking for him, but somehow he got the impression that Graas’s interest was not mercenary in nature.

“I didn’t think Maz was in the habit of revealing her guests’ identities,” Lando said, trying to sound haughty.

“She’s an old friend,” Graas said. “So what brings you to the castle, new friend?”

Lando grimaced. No sense lying; if Graas hadn’t already heard the story, they would soon enough. “Lost my ship.”

“Empire?”

“Ex.”

“Aaaah.” Grass sounded sympathetic and did not press for details. “Well, if you’re looking for a new situation, I may be able to help.”

Landon’s interest brightened. “You have a ship?”

“Maybe. You have a skill?”

“I’m a damned good pilot.”

“Any other . . . experience?”

The inquiry was mild enough, but it was accompanied with a twist at the edge of the fascinating mouth, a graceful finger slipping languidly around the rim of the beaker.

Lando swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry despite the grog. “Some.”

“Would you like to gain some more?”

Graas held Lando’s gaze for a breathless moment. Dark eyes fathomless, supple brown skin expansive and beckoning. Was it soft? What might it be like to kiss a mouth so wide it could swallow you whole? And those long, lithe fingers . . .

Lando placed his own palm on the table, sliding it toward the slim hand. “Yes.”

* * *

 

Graas’s suite overlooked the castle’s central courtyard with its dozens of fluttering flags, every color in the rainbow and a few beyond the human-visible spectrum.

Lando did not have much of an opportunity to contemplate the view. Flat on his back, he was much more concerned with watching his cock disappear into one of Graas’s mouths, then the other. The Ithorian seemed to enjoy switching, taking a few strokes on one side and then looking deep into Lando’s wide eyes before applying the other set of lips.

“Care to go deeper?” one mouth asked as the other sucked.

The feeble, gargling sound Lando had meant as a reply drew another warm chuckle.

Graas opened their mouth wider, wide enough to kiss both of Lando’s hips as he slid ever deeper into the cavernous maw. He was engulfed by a fluttering sensation of delicate muscles playing up and down his shaft, caressing him with a hundred tiny kisses. Then Graas turned ever so slightly and Lando’s next thrust went somewhere much slicker and smoother.

“Wha . . .” he gasped.

“I have four throats,” Graas explained, voice low and fervent. “Do you want to fuck them all?”

He did. Very much so. Caressing the front of Graas’s face with one hand and steadying himself with the other, Lando thrust into the other throats, alternating every few strokes until his breath began to go ragged, coming in quick, shallow bursts.

“Not yet,” Graas said, drawing away and raking Lando’s body with soft, searching eyes. “You have secrets of your own.”

“Not many,” Lando panted. Spread beneath Graas, naked as the day he was born, he wasn’t exactly hiding anything.

“Tell me about your ex,” Graas said, letting their fingers glide over the sweat-damp curls of Lando’s chest.

“Rather not,” Lando groaned, though from the question or the tweaking of his nipples he could not have said.

“He was human?”

“Still is.”

Both mouths smiled. “He must have known your body well, then.”

Very well. As Lando had his. The scar across his chin, the three brown freckles on hisleft shoulder blade, the strip of smooth, pale skin across the tops of his thighs between the soft, straight hair of his legs and the coarse, dense hair of his crotch. The smell of him: leather and grease and Corellian whiskey . . .

“I’ve always found the human body intriguing,” Graas continued. “It seems so simple: — one mouth, one throat, one cock — everything seemingly on display. But there are still hidden places.”

Lando licked his lips. “Hidden?”

“Of course.” The fingers were questing lower now, following the curly trail downward from Lando’s navel, making his cock leap when they skimmed along its base. “May I explore?” Graas asked.

“Yes,” Lando said, not quite sure what they meant.

Gently, but firmly, Grass began to prod along the side of Lando’s cock with their smallest finger. Down to the top of his sack, just where it joined his body, pressing here and there, softly but insistently. It was not uncomfortable, but Lando was a bit confused. What in the stars could they possibly be hoping to find?

Then the finger sank into Lando’s body and all his breath deserted him in one strangled cry.

“There,” Graas beamed, both mouths speaking so that their voice came from everywhere at once. They drew the finger mostly out, then slid it in again, slowly, but farther this time. Out again and in, pushing Lando’s skin into some secret well within him, his body accepting Graas’s finger well past the first knuckle.

“ _Kriff!_ ” Lando gasped, his legs twitching with each gentle thrust. He had never felt anything quite like that, the muscles dancing to the electric pulse of whatever nerve Graas had found.

“There are two, you know,” Graas murmured. As they spoke, Lando felt a mirrored sensation on the other side, another finger disappearing into him, brushing his balls with every stroke. He felt surrounded, engulfed, his body singing in stereo as Graas’s moaning mouths joined in.

How was this possible? Lando had always enjoyed being fucked, but it had never occurred to him that there might be more options beyond the obvious. This was a delicate matter, for sure, but the feeling was exquisite, like the satisfaction of cleaning out an ear if an ear was as soft and sensitive as flower petals.

Lando closed his eyes, giving himself up to the waves of pleasure that stole the air from his lungs and every coherent thought from his mind. When Graas wrapped their other fingers around his throbbing cock, it was only a matter of moments before five throats cried out together.

* * *

 

“Are you still alive over there?” Graas asked, tracing a finger along Lando’s stubbled chin.

“Hard to say,” Lando murmured. His breathing had slowed and his sweat-slick skin had cooled, leaving him feeling as though he had melted into the sheets. Risking a peek, he found Graas sprawled beside him, dark eyes twinkling with secret laughter. Lando smiled, and though he could only see one of Graas’s mouths, he was quite sure that both were smiling back.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” Lando said, raising a hand to caress Graas’s curving neck.

That earned a snort, the sound delighted and concussive all at once. “You look absolutely spent.”

Lando rolled onto one elbow and bit his lip. “I think I’ll recover. After all, I haven’t had my turn to go exploring.”

Graas was definitely laughing now, their body shaking with the effort of suppressing the sound. “I should warn you: my anatomy is built on twos and fours all over.”

“Then I’ll just have to pace myself.”

“Perhaps we should order in some refreshments? What was that fancy stuff you were drinking earlier? Corellian whiskey?”

Lando shook his head. “Nah. Forget that. I’m done with it. What do you like to drink?”


End file.
